others to the back of the science block.
“You know, we can’t let this happen!” said one.
“No way. We’ve got to fight it!” said another.
“Too right! They can’t amalga-wotsit us with another school, can they?!” added Carla, punching the air, the quickest change in opinion I had ever witnessed. I’d also never seen this side of her, or any of the other girls assembled on the wooden bench-cum-podium. They reminded me of check-coated old men on rallies, shouting at the television camera as placard-holding masses chanted and nodded their heads in agreement—the type of thing you saw on the six o’clock news and certainly not in my secondary school. Even after Mrs. Codrington shooed us all away, the meeting continued behind the gym block and by the next day even our Home Economics teacher had pledged his support.
What followed over the ensuing weeks were lunchtime “rallies” and meetings to decide how we were going to see off this threat to our education. My thoughts of handsome new boys became a sad but not forgotten memory as I joined the cause, secretly enjoying the togetherness. So, if this meant singing “We shall not, we shall not be mixed!” in the street, then so be it. If this meant welcoming Sharlene Rockingham into the fold, then so be it. We were a team, after all. Women, united in our quest to secure a good education for ourselves and future generations to come.
Lowey, if you’re not prepared to fight for what you believe in, then you might as well pack up and go home.
When the head announced the amalgamation would be put on hold until further notice, I knew a bunch of fifteen-year-olds couldn’t have swayed the minds of a selection of evil-doing council heads. But still, the taste of “victory” collided nicely with my taste buds: refreshing and unfamiliar.
But I was still glad to get back to normal, dodging Mom and studying for my SATs, which worked well until Mickey Mills asked me out one rainy evening as I stood outside Lanes chomping on a steak pie.
Now, Mickey Mills could hardly be described as handsome. Skinny, he resembled two legs sticking out of a neck and probably needed a bottle of Clearasil for his birthday. He wasn’t cool, but at the same time held his own among the cooler kids at his school, commanding respect among the boys as well as having a small but creditable fan club among the girls. He dressed okay (even if his feet weren’t in the latest Adidas). And he was mad enough to ask meout to see Jurassic Park, more to the point. I was quick to say yes, hungry for a morsel of what Carla and all the pretty girls at school had been consuming for years now.
Luckily there were no sex scenes in the movie, so I didn’t have to check for any bulges in Mickey’s trousers. Plus, I made sure I never bent over to pick up any popcorn (or pencils!) either.
“I…I really had a great time,” stuttered Mickey Mills outside my house. If I really squinted my eyes and ignored the spots, he could almost pass for quite a good looker.
“Me too. Thanks for the ticket.”
“Erm, thanks for the popcorn,” he said. His faced moved in closer to mine and he squeezed his eyes shut like I did the last time I was constipated.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
He opened his eyes. “I was going to give you a…kiss?”
We stared at one another for ages before I moved in and planted a huge wet kiss…on his cheek.
“Goodnight!” I said, the key already turning the lock. My heart was racing as I shot up the steps with a great big smile on my face.
You may think you’ve found the best thing since, I dunno, video laser discs, but it’s best not to fall for the first person to pay you any sort of special attention or hair compliment. There will be plenty of other lads who will comment on your lovely hair, sweet little laugh and your special ability to do fractions without a calculator (you can, right?). Besides, if he is truly “the one,” then surely it’s meant to be and
“You know, we can’t let this happen!” said one.
“No way. We’ve got to fight it!” said another.
“Too right! They can’t amalga-wotsit us with another school, can they?!” added Carla, punching the air, the quickest change in opinion I had ever witnessed. I’d also never seen this side of her, or any of the other girls assembled on the wooden bench-cum-podium. They reminded me of check-coated old men on rallies, shouting at the television camera as placard-holding masses chanted and nodded their heads in agreement—the type of thing you saw on the six o’clock news and certainly not in my secondary school. Even after Mrs. Codrington shooed us all away, the meeting continued behind the gym block and by the next day even our Home Economics teacher had pledged his support.
What followed over the ensuing weeks were lunchtime “rallies” and meetings to decide how we were going to see off this threat to our education. My thoughts of handsome new boys became a sad but not forgotten memory as I joined the cause, secretly enjoying the togetherness. So, if this meant singing “We shall not, we shall not be mixed!” in the street, then so be it. If this meant welcoming Sharlene Rockingham into the fold, then so be it. We were a team, after all. Women, united in our quest to secure a good education for ourselves and future generations to come.
Lowey, if you’re not prepared to fight for what you believe in, then you might as well pack up and go home.
When the head announced the amalgamation would be put on hold until further notice, I knew a bunch of fifteen-year-olds couldn’t have swayed the minds of a selection of evil-doing council heads. But still, the taste of “victory” collided nicely with my taste buds: refreshing and unfamiliar.
But I was still glad to get back to normal, dodging Mom and studying for my SATs, which worked well until Mickey Mills asked me out one rainy evening as I stood outside Lanes chomping on a steak pie.
Now, Mickey Mills could hardly be described as handsome. Skinny, he resembled two legs sticking out of a neck and probably needed a bottle of Clearasil for his birthday. He wasn’t cool, but at the same time held his own among the cooler kids at his school, commanding respect among the boys as well as having a small but creditable fan club among the girls. He dressed okay (even if his feet weren’t in the latest Adidas). And he was mad enough to ask meout to see Jurassic Park, more to the point. I was quick to say yes, hungry for a morsel of what Carla and all the pretty girls at school had been consuming for years now.
Luckily there were no sex scenes in the movie, so I didn’t have to check for any bulges in Mickey’s trousers. Plus, I made sure I never bent over to pick up any popcorn (or pencils!) either.
“I…I really had a great time,” stuttered Mickey Mills outside my house. If I really squinted my eyes and ignored the spots, he could almost pass for quite a good looker.
“Me too. Thanks for the ticket.”
“Erm, thanks for the popcorn,” he said. His faced moved in closer to mine and he squeezed his eyes shut like I did the last time I was constipated.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
He opened his eyes. “I was going to give you a…kiss?”
We stared at one another for ages before I moved in and planted a huge wet kiss…on his cheek.
“Goodnight!” I said, the key already turning the lock. My heart was racing as I shot up the steps with a great big smile on my face.
You may think you’ve found the best thing since, I dunno, video laser discs, but it’s best not to fall for the first person to pay you any sort of special attention or hair compliment. There will be plenty of other lads who will comment on your lovely hair, sweet little laugh and your special ability to do fractions without a calculator (you can, right?). Besides, if he is truly “the one,” then surely it’s meant to be and
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